A hand and a pencil. 2 elements that link on a piece of paper to draw letters made of lines and dots in straight and curvy fashions. Putting the letters together or away from each other to form infinite number of words.
The words arrange indefinitely to form sentences. The sentences run lines long, connect or disconnect to each other. And as the soul descends, the words turn from meaningless lines and dots to purposeful pictures that transcend through space and time.
It’s all about how the hand moves, how the pencil runs and draws, and how the soul channels through each and every word.
But for now, my pencil is broken.
Quasar 